


Hold me

by Saetha



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, basically just random cuddliness with a weeny teeny bit of angst, cuddly Dworin mwah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:17:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1380568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saetha/pseuds/Saetha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin has just returned to their village in the Ered Luin from a long journey and gets a warm welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold me

**Author's Note:**

> I needed Dworin fluff, so I wrote some :'). Originally on [Tumblr](http://heart-of-erebor.tumblr.com/post/78051330220/fanfic-hold-me).

The days had grown short and dark when he returned to their home in the Blue Mountains. Dwalin let out a deep breath when the familiar outlines of their houses finally came into view. It was as if the entire village hadn’t changed at all in the months that he had been away. Even the smells had stayed the same - the scent of pine needles from the surrounding forest, that of hot metal from the forges and burning wood from the baker’s and smithy’s ovens. He had left in late spring and although he had promised to be back for Durin’s Day, his journey had been delayed by the hunt for a stray orc pack terrorizing a few villages at the border of their lands. Winter had already begun and snow was crunching under his boots.  
  
The long travels had made him tired and he was glad to finally be home again. He avoided the business of the market in the early evening and instead lead his steps through one of the smaller side streets, nodding greetings to the occasional passer-by. Part of him longed for the familiarity of his own home, to simply sit down, take off his boots and wash the grime and weariness of the past weeks from his skin and have a good night’s sleep. The other, bigger part, however, desired the company of others, the sound of familiar voices and sight of faces he had missed so dearly. They would all be in one place, he knew; for his brother seldomly spent his evenings alone and often wandered over to their king’s house, not far from their own doors.  
  
When his feet had finally carried him to the right house everything was almost exactly as he remembered it - the rough stone and dark wood over the doorway, the building nestled securely in the rock of the mountain side. Even the big gash in the wood where young Fíli had once been too eager to try out his new toy axe was still there. Dwalin smiled to himself. Thorin had promised to fix it almost two years ago; but of course, he had been too busy. As always.  
  
He could hear their clear voices ringing through the door. Around this time someone would be preparing dinner and watching the two whirlwinds that Dís called her children. Most often this task would fall to Balin whilst Thorin and his sister were finishing the work of the day in the forges and getting themselves cleaned up before entering the main rooms of their home.  
  
Dwalin rapped his knuckles on the door, waiting for Balin to reply before stepping inside.  
  
“ _No Fíli_ , please don’t let your toy wargs take a swim in the soup and - YES PLEASE COME IN THE DOOR IS OPEN - _Kíli_ , don’t throw potatoes at your brother, one hit in the eye and we’ll have to take him to Óin’s again like last week…”  
  
The grin on Dwalin’s face was wider than it had been for months when he opened the door. He remembered Balin’s rambles very well from his own childhood and the two young princelings were almost impossible to contain.  
  
He only had a second to catch a glimpse at his older brother before the full force of two young dwarven bodies slammed into him and almost toppled him to the ground.  
  
"UNCLE DWALIN!"  
  
Dropping his pack on the ground the warrior laughed and and bent down to pull both young dwarflings into a firm embrace.  
  
"Careful now, or you’ll get as dirty as I am. Your mother wouldn’t be happy about that, would she?"  
  
"Fíli, Kíli, come back here and let him shut the door and get rid of his shoes, otherwise we’ll all freeze to death before the food is on the table." Despite the stern tone of his voice, Balin was smiling as he cleaned off his hands. The two forces of nature were already on the run again, racing off to find their mother and uncle.  
  
"Brother."    
  
Grasping their shoulders and butting their heads together, the two dwarrows took a quiet moment to smile at each other and relinquish the feeling of their family being together again. Then Dwalin picked up his pack from the floor, taking care to put the sharp blades of his axes out of the dwarflings’ reach before setting the rest of it down in a corner of the room.  He had just finished taking off his boots and the stained travel cloak when the door to the forges opened again.  
  
Dís had barely changed. The lines of grief etched into her face from loosing too many too early would never entirely disappear, but her eyes carried the same merry spark in them as ever. It was mirrored by the broad grin stretching over her face.  
  
"Dwalin!’ she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and planting a kiss on the tip of his nose. "So you finally made it back, huh?"  
  
"Finally." Dwalin nodded. "I’m sorry it took so long. There were a few unexpected events that held me back. Took longer to sort out than I thought."  
  
"Well, never mind, you’re here now, safe and sound. That’s all that counts, isn’t it, Thorin?" The young dwarrowdam turned around and smiled at her brother.  
  
Thorin was still standing in front of the half-closed door, sleeves rolled up and hair bound back from a day of work at the forge. Now his lips drew back into the tiniest of smiles and he stepped closer.  
  
"Yes."  
  
The same rough voice, the same piercing gaze, just as Dwalin had remembered them countless times during his journey.  
  
Dís looked back and forth between them. Then, without a further word, she scooped up Kíli who had been trying to get Dwalin’s attention by repeatedly pulling on the edges of his clothes on her left arm. With her right hand she grabbed Fíli who had been about to start an adventure of his own to get to Grasper and Keeper on the top shelf. Whisking them out of the room she joined Balin in the kitchen.  
  
"Let’s give them a moment of privacy, shall we?"  She closed the door quietly.  
  
For a moment, silence filled the room. Dwalin didn’t quite know what to say; none of them had ever been good with words. That was usually his brother’s job.  
  
It was Thorin who finally spoke after a while. When he did so, his voice was raw.  
  
"We were worried when you weren’t back for Durin’s Day. No messages had arrived and we thought…" his voice slowly trailed off.  
  
Only now did Dwalin see the faint traces of worry still in his eyes and the firm lines around his mouth. It was a worry so familiar it hurt. They hadn’t seen each other in almost a year; he had left before Thorin had returned from his trip to the Iron Hills. The same fear he could read in Thorin’s face had been sitting in his own heart every day, the fear that something would go amiss, that accident, illness or a battle would suddenly claim the other’s life.  
  
Dwalin crossed the distance between them with a few steps and pulled his king close.  
  
"I’m sorry." he whispered quietly. "I’m here now."  
  
After a moment, he felt Thorin relax against his grip, allowing himself to drink in the warmth of the embrace. Closing his eyes, he buried his nose in his hair, breathing in the familiar smell of iron and sweat and the faint trace of Thorin’s favourite oil he used for washing.  
  
The king in exile didn’t reply. There were no words needed; they both knew what each other had gone through and now was not the time to talk about the dangers of the road. Both of them being whole and back again was all that counted.  
  
When they finally loosened their embrace, the relief in Thorin’s eyes was palpable. Dwalin looked down, letting his fingers trail over the bare skin on his friend’s arm, tracing the outline of faint scars collected throughout years of work and fighting. A bright red line on his elbow caught his eye.  
  
"I don’t know this one yet." he observed.  
  
He could almost feel the outline of a quiet smile playing around Thorin’s lips.  
  
"No heroic tales for this one, I’m afraid. Just a very stupid accident at the forge a few weeks ago."  
  
Dwalin chuckled.  
  
"You should be more careful."  
  
"You too."  
  
Of course Thorin had spotted the half-healed scar on the left side of his scalp. He lifted his arm and brushed over it with his tender, careful touch until Dwalin caught his hand, intertwining their fingers. His right slowly undid the simple clasp holding Thorin’s hair together, getting lost in the soft waves and bringing their foreheads closer together until they touched.  
  
Their eyes locked, seconds turning into lifetimes whilst words passed silently between them that would remain forever unsaid and yet were always in their hearts. Then Thorin leaned forward until their lips met. His fingers unlocked from Dwalin’s and slid through his scruffy hair until they came to rest on the back of his neck. The warmth of his touch flowed through Dwalin’s body and seemed to set his veins on fire. He could feel himself responding, shifting closer, running his hand down Thorin’s back.  
  
Neither of them knew who broke off their kiss first. They remained in their embrace a while long, fingers absently wandering over bare skin and simply enjoying the lack of distance between them. Dwalin felt a pang of regret when the other dwarf moved away from his grasp.  
  
"We should let the others back in," Thorin remarked, his voice husky and slightly breathless. "I’m sure Fíli and Kíli could storm through that door any moment."  
  
Dwalin hated to admit it, but Thorin was right. As if on cue, his stomach started demanding attention with a sound that his brother had always fondly described as ‘more ferocious than a warg’s growl’. To his surprise, Thorin laughed; it was a hearty, booming laugh, one that they only heard so rarely nowadays but which always made Dwalin’s heart sing in joy.  
  
Not trusting his voice yet not to betray the heat flushing through his body, he only nodded. Thorin moved towards the door, to offer his help in the kitchen with preparing the additional portion of food for tonight. Before he opened the door, however, he turned around again.  
  
An unspoken promise passed between them, planting a smile on Dwalin’s lips that never left throughout the evening.


End file.
